


Pinky Promises

by wolfiery (asswords)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkwardness, Fluff, Implied Drunken Sex, M/M, Morning After, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asswords/pseuds/wolfiery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He opens his phone and cringes at the texts Erica's sent him.</p>
<p>
  <i>didn't see u at the party when everyone left, but i KNOW u were plastered, so who'd ya go home with? :D </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>derekkkk, was it stlinski? cause you haven't shut up about him for two days</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinky Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Oh maN OH MAN so I gave myself this prompt because I wanted to write a lil drabble and I thought this was so funny. I wrote half of this at 3 in the morning, dON'T START.
> 
> I just love Texts From Last Night and this sounded like Stiles so much, teehee.
> 
> (970): I vaguely remember a drunken mid sex pinky promise to not let it get weird.

Derek knows the moment that he feels himself wake up, he'd give _anything_ to be asleep and not have to suffer what feels like an enormous hangover approaching his way. He doesn't even _know_ how much he drank last night, only recognizes that Erica kept putting another whiskey in his hand as soon as he finished one.

The wrath of God feels like it's living in Derek's mouth, but first he blindly smacks his hand around on the nightstand in search of his phone to punish his cruel, inconsiderate best friends. The phone in his hand, Derek braces himself for the inevitable attack of sunlight to his pounding headache.

And. Well.

"Mmm," a voice, softer and sleepier than Derek's, says beside him.

Derek's eyes snap open and looks to his left and faces the outline of a tall, skinny attractive guy who's body must have been painted with splattered moles everywhere. It's almost strange how suiting it is for the guy.

The guy that Derek apparently slept with. Since he's naked. In Derek's bed.

He tries to peer over the cocoon made of blankets covering but still can't see the guy's face although he's getting clearer and clearer on who's sprawled out on Derek's bed, face down and most likely smushed between the pillows and blankets.

Derek runs a hand over his face and groans _quietly_ , because he doesn't want to wake up his - what? Booty call? Frenemy? He opens his phone and cringes at the texts Erica's sent him.

_didn't see u at the party when everyone left, but i KNOW u were plastered, so who'd ya go home with? :D_

_derekkkk, was it stlinski? cause you haven't shut up about him for two days_

Derek feels unpleasant chills run up and down his spine and a sickening tightness in his stomach.

He runs off to the bathroom before he can even worry about waking Stiles up and hurls last night's stomach contents into the toilet.

He _really_ wishes he was still asleep.

*~*

Derek isn't _staring_ , exactly. He's just trying to figure out how his lab partner could actually sleep through all the sounds of his retching in the bathroom.

He still feels like shit but the coffee in his hand is nursing that effect just a little bit, as well as the aspirin. Derek remembers last night in blurry pieces - how he ran his teeth all over Stiles' throat and pressed his hands firmly against his back and fucked him hard and slow.

He's not sure if his drunken mind is just convinced the sex was great or it actually _was_. Derek blames Erica. Usually, a night at the campus bar means Derek drinks two beers, scowls when Isaac and Boyd get wasted and try to play darts with an alarming lack of skill, and then proceeds to drive everyone's drunk ass home.

Obviously, last night was different.

Shit, he doesn't even know _how_ he got home, let alone with the most annoying, loud and talkative classmate to exist.

He's so lost in his own thoughts that he almost misses the slowly awakening Stiles splayed out on his bed.

He wouldn't be able to though because then Stiles flails his arms and looks around the room in alarm until his eyes land on Derek.

Derek tenses, the coffee halfway up to his lips stopped.

"Oh," Stiles breathes and Derek is pretty lost at that. Stiles is someone who vocalizes his every thought and writes messily on the lab notes and talks his ear off about comics and circumcision - sometimes within the same conversation. So, yeah, he's not exactly sure what _oh_ means.

He raises his eyebrows, brings the coffee to his mouth again for a sip of sanity, hopefully, and says, "Good morning."

Derek has manners. He's not quite as socially inept as his friends tease him for.

"Right, uh, morning," Stiles grins, and then looks down at his bare chest. Bare except for the various dark bruises across them. "Jesus, did you _maul_ me last night?"

Derek rolls his eyes, "As far as I can remember, you weren't complaining."

But it's true, now that he thinks about it - he felt an inexplicable urge to mark Stiles everywhere he could, his chest especially. He'd be embarrassed if it wasn't for the breathy moans of ' _Yeah, yeah, come on_ '.

"And how far can you remember?" Stiles asks and sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so quickly that he clutches his head and groans in pain. "Oh my _god_."

Derek leaves to the kitchen, pours another cup of coffee and uses an obnoxious amount of hazelnut creamer. They once finished up a report on ionic charges produced in chemical reactions at a coffee shop which is the _only_ reason he knows that tidbit of information. He gets two more aspirin and walks back to his bedroom, Stiles still hunched over and taking deep breaths.

"Here," Derek holds out the coffee and aspirin with impatience while Stiles looks up in awe, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Thanks," Stiles says hoarsely, and takes the somewhat efficient hangover remedies.

Derek ignores the moan Stiles makes when he takes a sip of the coffee in favor of answering the question, "I only remember bits and pieces. Not sure on how I actually agreed to take you home with me."

Stiles drops his jaw, scoffing and haughty.

Derek smirks.

"I bet I was _fantastic_ and gave you the blowjob of your life, don't even front," Stiles defends and Derek is only just noticing that Stiles is _still_ naked except for the sheets covering parts of him that mattered a lot to Derek the night before. "I was probably like, porn star good, okay?"

"If that's what you achieve to be in life," Derek retorts, amusement behind it and nods slowly.

Stiles glares briefly and then looks at the ground in search.

"Are you looking for your phone?" Derek frowns, concerned and makes way to grab his own to call Stiles' phone just in case.

"No, uh, my underwear, actually," Stiles mumbles, a flush rising on the back of his neck before his hand goes to it to smooth it out.

Derek stares this time unashamed standing on the opposite end of the bed, drinking in the sight of Stiles' flushing skin and flashes back to the memory of Stiles' mouth open and wide and spread around Derek's dick and Derek's hand squeezing at the back of his lab partner's neck.

He feels blood rushing to his cock and through his spine and of course, he's half-hard now. He curses his brain to just _shut the fuck up_.

"I'll just," Derek clears his throat, motions his hand towards the kitchen as Stiles turns his head around to look at him with his amber eyes and an arched eyebrow.

_Shit_ , Derek has to get out of here. He actually wants a repeat, sober performance with the guy. "I'll go there, yeah, my kitchen."

He bolts out of there to the kitchen taking deep breaths with his hands out on the countertop, trying to will his erection away.

It's working with the thoughts of walking in on his sister and her fiancé a year ago until Stiles walks into the kitchen, his jeans on but lacking a shirt and Derek just _wants_.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asks, probably mistaking Derek's tense demeanor for some hangover thing. He takes a step closer and puts the coffee cup on the countertop.

"I vaguely remember a drunken mid sex pinky promise to not let it get weird," Derek blurts, eyes fixed on Stiles' hand.

Stiles considers this for a second and nods, "That sounds like me. Is it weird now? I mean, are you freaking out?" His eyes are wide, with hurt and worry etched in his voice.

Derek, drawn to the marks he left on Stiles' collarbone, takes a step forward.

He lifts a hand up and brushes his thumb against one of the darker bruises, hearing Stiles' breath hitch in his throat. Derek nods, looks at Stiles' pupils blown wide with lust.

"I - are you," Stiles stutters, eyes flicking across Derek's face. "You're saying -"

Derek leans forward and presses his lips to Stiles', effectively shutting him up. Derek drags his tongue against Stiles' lower lip, sighing when Stiles moans and opens his mouth, giving Derek access to lick into his mouth.

He kisses him deep and hard and turns them around so Stiles is pushed up against the counter. Derek moves his leg in between Stiles' thighs and can feel the beginnings of Stiles getting hard.

He pulls away when he's out of breath, opens his eyes to see Stiles flushed and panting.

"I'm usually pretty strict when it comes to pinky promises, but I'm going to revoke it because I was drunk and I really wanna keep kissing you," Stiles says, in one big rush and still blushing and Derek wants to tear him apart, watch Stiles writhe beneath him on his bed for the rest of the day.

Derek hums in thought, his hand rubbing along Stiles' side, "Well, it's not weird, is it? Just better."

Stiles grins slowly and it lights up his whole face and maybe Derek wants him all the time.

"I'll blow you if you buy me breakfast later."

"Now _that's_ prostitution," Derek rolls his eyes and tries to block out thoughts of Stiles on his knees. His stomach still hurts, as well as the taunting headache he's still got. "Let's just start with breakfast."

Stiles sags against him in relief, "Oh thank god, I'm starving." He drops a kiss to Derek's shoulder and backs away with a smile. He turns to walk through the hallway to Derek's bedroom and yells over his shoulder, "I'm borrowing a shirt! _Someone_ ripped mine last night."

It's Derek's turn to blush as he stands there in the kitchen and feels something settle in his chest at the remarkable ease he has with Stiles, his annoying lab partner that Derek barely remembers sleeping with.

He pulls out his phone to text Erica.

**Yeah, it was Stiles.**

_!!!! andddd?!?_

**We're getting breakfast :)**


End file.
